Once they’d all taken seats and had a glass of homemade lemonade in front of them, Colt took the lead. “First, we need to know everything that has been going on. No matter how small or inconsequential you think it is. Nick already filled us in on the big picture, but he seems to think there’s more that he hasn’t been told.”
Colt looked at Mason, who’d pursed his lips and turned away to look out the windows. Getting info out of him was going to be like pulling teeth, it appeared. Colt bit back a sigh. Why was it every time they were hired to protect someone, that someone too often felt they didn’t need it?
“I’ll fill you in on that,” Trina said, a note of frustration in her voice. “As much as I know, anyway.”
“Then we need a list of all your live-in and off-site staff,” Wes said, “and, I’m assuming, you also have volunteers?”
Mason nodded. “We have a dozen full-time staff that live on site—eight are dedicated to the rescue and wild horses, and the rest float between the horses as needed but focus on the buffalo, equipment maintenance, and various ranching chores. Another dozen volunteers come in to help and give the full-timers a day off a couple times a week, and I bring in extra hands during haying and calving seasons.”
“Plus, the dining hall staff,” Trina added. “Our chef and three kitchen staff live on-site full-time, and we have a relief crew that comes in on weekends.”
“We’ll need you to gather all of their contact info for us,” Colt said and earned a nod from Mason and both of his sisters.
“Then we’ll need to know of any visitors or anyone else that has access to the property,” Levi chimed in. “Histories of your rescue horses as well, in case you have a disgruntled owner.”
“And of course,” Colt continued, “we’ll need a list of anyone you think is most likely behind this.”
Mason finally looked Colt in the eye. “I don’t know who would—”
“Oh, I do,” Trina cut him off. She narrowed her eyes—nearly the same color as Mason’s, though greener than his gold green—at Mason. “Start with the anti-wild horse fanatics.”
Katie was nodding. “You should see the emails and messages we get from them.”
“Oh, we intend to,” Colt said.
“Forward everything to me,” Wes said as he wrote something on a piece of paper and then slid it across to Katie. “That’s my email. And if you wouldn’t mind giving me access to your social media accounts, I can try and trace their sources.”
“I’ll get on that tonight,” she said.
“Okay.” Colt looked around the table and stopped when his gaze landed on Mason, who quickly looked away. “Start from the beginning.”
Mason made a point of looking only at Wes and Levi as he and his sisters shared the instances of vandalism, harassment, and outright threats directed at Mason, and anyone they considered a potential suspect. The list was longer than Colt would have thought, and the longer it grew, the more he knew Mason was in real trouble here.
Colt made eye contact with his brothers, who both wore matching expressions of bafflement. Unease swirled in his chest. How could Mason have so many potential enemies—enemies that would go to violent extremes to get what they wanted, or worse, get rid of Mason altogether—simply by running a horse rescue and sanctuary?
Colt looked over the list again, which included two disgruntled ex-employees; eight hunting outfitter guides who’d lost their leases, one of whom had been aggressive about it; a fish-and-game club that wanted access to a private lake on Mason’s land; another rancher actively trying to buy a large parcel of the property; cattle ranchers pissed that Mason was holding grazing rights on public land for wild horses—one of whom had sued Mason to take his grazing rights away but had ultimately lost; and a slew of anonymous anti-wild horse and pro land management fanatics who’d sent threatening emails and messages and the occasional phone call.
Sure, he and Mason had water under the bridge—more like class five rapids raging inches below a single-track rope suspension bridge—but no matter his painful past with Mason, the man didn’t deserve to be so attacked at every angle. An unexpected need to protect Mason rose within him—more mama bear intensity than regular guard dog. He shifted in his seat. The feeling was not welcome. As with any other client, he would keep Mason safe until the threats were identified and resolved. He was a professional, and he would not blur the protector/protectee lines. No small talk, no catching up, and most definitely no falling under the spell of Mason’s heart-tugging gaze again.
Mason noticed Colt’s bedroom door was open when he made his way to the kitchen at oh-dark-thirty a few days later. He sighed. Did the man not sleep? Colt had been on him like a shadow ever since their meeting the first day he and his brothers had arrived. He followed him everywhere, or in the case of entering the barns, the house, or the dining hall, he went ahead of Mason to ensure the coast was clear. Every time Mason turned around, there was Colt, silent and stoic like some secret service agent. And when Mason tried to talk, even something as mundane as the weather, Colt either replied with a tip of his head or chin or with as few words as possible. The only time he said more was when he was barking orders.
Mason wouldn’t have minded quite so much if Colt would at least talk with him occasionally. If he could round up the courage to ask why Colt had never answered any of his phone calls or letters.
Mason had imagined how seeing Colt again one day would go. How he’d stand tall, demand to know why Colt had disappeared without a word, apologize for walking away that day, tell him he still loved him. But that day had never come.
Reality was nothing like his imagination since it appeared Colt didn’t want anything to do with him. The boy Mason had been head over heels in love with was long gone. The man now sitting at his kitchen island with a steaming mug of coffee cradled between his hands was a stranger.
Had something else happened that Mason didn’t know about? Had his dad done something to Colt too? No one had said anything about Colt and his family when Mason had returned home from living with his relatives, and when he’d asked a couple of hands, they’d only shrugged and said “they moved on”.
And was it truly worth it to bring all of that up now? He knew the moment Nick was satisfied he was no longer in danger, Colt would vanish from his life once again. And this time, it would be forever.
But the questions still ate at him.
Colt looked up when Mason walked into the kitchen. Mason didn’t miss how Colt’s gaze dropped to his bare chest before zipping right back up to his face. A part of Mason preened at the thought Colt might still find him attractive. He slipped a dark blue T-shirt over his head as he crossed the room and opened the cupboard to grab a coffee cup.
“Thanks for making coffee,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.
“Katie did all the work. I only turned it on.” Colt’s voice was just as gruff.
